


Open All Night Long

by why_didnt_i_get_any_soup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Harm to Animals, Healing, Jewish Character, Jewish Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Healing, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup/pseuds/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hits an animal while driving the Jeep late at night</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open All Night Long

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the idea of Jewish/Polish Stiles that I read in [KuriKuri's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKuri/pseuds/KuriKuri) fic [Pączki are Always a Solution](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5028046)
> 
> And the fic is based on number 1 on this [list of Werewolf Meetcute prompts](http://meetcuteproject.tumblr.com/post/129246705143/meetcute-prompts-werewolf-edition)

The Jeep was rattling uncomfortably and Stiles’ eyes kept flicking to the gauges on the dashboard; he’d just made a few hasty repairs and he wasn’t sure if the engine wasn’t going to explode at any second. It wasn’t safe to drive it like that...or really ever, if he was being honest, but this newest problem was just what he needed to not see the animal—likely a coyote—that darted underneath his wheels. Of course, he heard and felt the bump as the car passed over the creature.

It took Stiles a few seconds before he slammed on his brakes, thankful that no one was out at this time of night. In the dimness, he could just make out the hunched lump in the road a few hundred feet from where he left the Jeep idling. Honestly, he had no hope that the animal was still alive but his conscious wouldn’t let him just leave it if there was even a slight chance it was still alive. As he drew closer, he could hear it kind of wheezing and whimpering and he realized it wasn’t a coyote at all; it was a wolf. It tried to lift its head when it heard Stiles approaching but it really couldn’t, relaxing back into the asphalt, growling and whining alternatively. Clearly, it recognized it was in trouble but also didn’t want to admit defeat.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Stiles spoke in his softest voice, despite his rising panic in his throat, a hand up to try and placate the creature. “It’ll be okay.” He crouched down and it allowed him to pet it, its eyes closed not out of comfort but out of acceptance. “I’m gonna fix this.” He told it and then jogged back to his Jeep so he could carefully back it up and cut down on the distance he had to carry the animal to the trunk of his car.

It didn’t seem to be bleeding but that didn’t mean it didn’t have internal damage. It was in the middle of the god damn night and there wasn’t a single animal clinic open at this hour in Beacon Hills. His best bet was to take it home and make it as comfortable as he could, maybe give it some medicine in some food? He wasn’t exactly sure what wolves ate...except raw meat? But he wasn’t sure if he had any of that laying around in his apartment.

As carefully as he could, he hefted the large creature into the most horizontal position he could manage and tried to lay it carefully into the trunk but wolves were bigger than he realized and he was not quite as strong as he thought he was and he was hurting it the whole time it was in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, buddy.” Stiles told it, smoothing its fur on its head one last time before hopping back into the cabin and speeding back to his apartment.

There were pros and cons to having an apartment on the bottom floor. Con: the upstairs neighbors got to stomp around as loud as the could possibly want at any hour of the day or night. Pro: when hefting a hulking, wounded beast into your abode, you didn’t have to climb any stairs. He backed into the parking space directly in front of his door and hopped out, throwing the door open to make it as easy as possible to get the thing inside. Again, it whimpered and growled the whole time Stiles was carrying it but he managed to get all the way inside, going back to shut his trunk and the front door.

Back inside, he raced around the house to try to gather as many accommodations as he could: blankets, his first aid kit, some aspirin. He also checked his freezer and found that there was some ground hamburger meat in there. Quickly, he threw it on a plate and into the microwave to thaw out. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to feed a wolf beef...what if they get a taste for cow flesh? Would that encourage them to hunt cows? Wait, how would they know it was cow just from the taste?

He went about making the cushiest bed his extra sheets and blankets could afford next to the couch, just a few feet away from where it was settled on the hardwood.

“Do you think you could walk?” He asked, not really expecting a reply, surprised when he thought it gave him a deprecating look. It tried to roll onto its stomach to stand up but couldn’t manage it. As carefully as he could, Stiles scooped it up and laid it on the makeshift bed. Then he poked it in a few places, pulling on its back legs to test for injuries. It nearly bit him when he touched the joint of its right hind leg and Stiles jumped back a few feet.

“Guess we know the problem, then.” He announced, taking the opportunity to get up and check on the hamburger meat. He could crush up some of the aspirin and stick it in the raw meat in hopes that it would alleviate at least a little bit of the pain. When he set the meat in front of the wolf, it sniffed it for a few seconds before deciding it was acceptable, looking awkward as it tried to scarf it down while laying on its side. He felt bad but he hoped the medicine worked a little. In the meantime, he hoped the food would be enough of a distraction for him to bind the injured back leg, enough to tide them over until morning.

Stiles sat on the couch and watched the wolf eat, taking its time. It seemed like it was getting sluggish toward the end. And, finally, the wolf passed out—from exhaustion? From pain? From satiation? Stiles wasn’t sure but he was glad it was no longer conscious, one way or another.

…

Stiles set an alarm for 7 am, the time the nearest animal clinic opened the next day. He was so asleep when he dragged himself out of the bed at 7:15 that when he found the bathroom door locked he just went on into the kitchen to put on coffee. The pot was almost half brewed by the time he realized what was wrong. Who the fuck is in the bathroom?

He rushed to his bedroom and grabbed the gun his cop dad insisted he have with him when he lived on his own and went to the bathroom door, tapping on it with the end of the gun.

“Come out of there with your hands up. I’ve got a gun and I’ve called the cops.”

“Please don’t shoot me.” Came a soft voice from the other side of the door.

“Come out.” Stiles repeated.

Slowly, the door unlocked and the handle turned. The person in the bathroom let the door swing open to reveal a naked man. A cute, naked man with a crooked jaw and dark skin and soft eyes.

“Why are you naked in my bathroom?”

“I had to,” he scratched the back of his head nervously and gestured to the toilet, “ _ go _ .” He paused again. “You have no idea how long it took me to limp in here.”

“Limp? I’m still wondering  _ why you’re in my house _ .” Stiles couldn’t help waving the gun a little to prove his point.

“Well, I’m mostly healed now but there’s still some heavy bruising and I can’t really bend my knee.” The boy gestured down to his right leg and sure enough it was covered in a nasty purple bruise. Wasn’t that the same leg as the wolf?

Stiles suddenly remembered that he needed to check on the wolf. What if it had died? He would probably have to bury it, probably in his dad’s backyard. But when he rounded the couch, the blanket pile was empty.

“ _ Where’s the wolf? _ ” He shouted, frantically searching under the pile as if it could have hidden underneath them. Then he heard a little cough behind him. He turned to see the naked man limping towards him, using the wall as support, and raise one hand as if to say “guilty as charged.”

“No way.” Stiles looked at him deadpan. “I hit a wolf, not a human.”

“Werewolf, actually. So, you’re wrong on both accounts.”

Stiles scrunched up his eyebrows and rubbed his sleepy face with his whole free hand. “It’s too fucking early for this shit. You promise me you’re not gonna kill me or rob me?”

“I mean...I’m naked so?”

“Fair point. I didn’t think of that.” The man just seemed so gentle, now that the shock of having a stranger inexplicably present in his house had worn off a little. “You want to...borrow some clothes?”

“Please.” The man said on a sigh. That wasn’t the manner of someone trying to kill you, Stiles hoped anyway.

“By the way, before I let you have a pair of my underwear,” Stiles said as he helped the guy back towards the bedroom, “What’s your name?”

“Scott. And you?”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles. That your real name?”

“No. My real name is much weirder.”

“Fair enough.” Scott nodded. “Nice to meet you, Stiles. Even though you ran over me with your car.”

“To be fair, you did kind of run right in front of my car.” Stiles defended, sitting Scott down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you kidding? Who is out driving that late at night?”

“Touché.” Stiles nodded and went to find his biggest and loosest clothes to give to Scott since he was a bit larger than Stiles. “Do you need help dressing?” He added as an afterthought once he’d handed over the clothes.

“I think I can manage.” Scott answered, yanking the shirt on and the putting the boxers on around his ankles. He stood up just long enough to pull them all the way up, crying out in pain the whole time. Then he repeated the same method with the sweatpants.

“No offense, Scotty,” Stiles said, already falling into a nickname, “but I’m tired as fuck. Mind if we catch a few z’s and then carry on a little later, at a reasonable time.”

Scott rubbed at his neck, rolling it to try to work out some tension there. “I seem to have a crick in my neck so I wouldn’t mind sleep in a real bed.”

Stiles paused. He’d intended to offer Scott the couch but now he couldn’t or he’d be a bad host and Stiles wasn’t about to sleep on the couch himself. The bed was a queen. It was big enough to share. Not to mention Stiles had already seen Scott naked so what was there to lose, really?

“We’ll share.” Stiles told him and immediately dove under the disheveled covers.

“Perfect.” Scott said, carefully scooting back so he could get under the covers too.

…

They woke up closer to noon, that time, Stiles limbs all splayed over Scott who seemed to be a back sleeper. The sun was streaming into the room and Stiles was a bit sweaty with the extra heat under the covers. He peeled himself away, a little embarrassed at how clingy he is in bed, and went back into the kitchen where he’d left the coffee pot on and the coffee was still hot. He thanks god or some deity for small miracles. Was Scott really a werewolf, though? Was Stiles just going to buy that? Clearly, he hadn’t done anything malicious while Stiles slept, either time. But was he really, actually, literally a werewolf?

“I’ve got to test this.” Stiles muttered to himself, moving quietly over to his silverware drawer. None of it was really silver, except this one butter knife his babcia had insisted he keep since it was a family heirloom that had survived the Holocaust. His father was a little reluctant, but Stiles had it tucked away for special butter occasions. Werewolves had...some reaction...or aversion to silver, right?

He wasn’t sure if it would work or if Scott would try to kill him or rob him if he caught Stiles sneaking around but he really couldn’t accept the werewolf thing at just face value. He had at 7 in the morning but now that he’d gotten some sleep he realized it was ridiculous. So,  he slunk into the bedroom where Scott was still sleeping on his back, snoring softly. Stiles didn’t want to...cut him, but he wasn’t sure if just touching it was enough. He had to try that first, at least. He held out the butter knife, obviously too dull to cut someone anyway, and pressed it to Scott’s forearm. After a few seconds, he thought nothing was going to happen but then he heard a slight hissing and Scott jumped up and was across the room, chest heaving as he stared at Stiles with red—no joke,  _ red _ —eyes.

“What the hell?” He shouted, noticing the knife in Stiles’ hand. “Is that  _ silver? _ ”

“I...uh,” Stiles’ excused fell flat, “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure if the... _ werewolf _ thing was true.”

Scott sighed and moved towards Stiles, who only flinched a little. He was holding out his forearm and, sure enough, there were a red knife-shaped mark there that looked almost like a burn.

“So, it burns you?”

Scott just nodded.

“I’m really sorry I did that. I just had to know you weren’t lying, you know?”

“It’s okay. If I weren’t a werewolf, I wouldn’t believe it either.” He shrugged and moved toward the door.

“Wait, you’re...walking okay?” Stiles asked, more disbelief than a question.

“I heal quickly. One of the perks of being a werewolf and all.” He showed him the silver burn and it was almost completely faded now.

“Woah.” Stiles was a bit in awe, somewhat jealous. “I wish I could do that.”

“It has a lot of downsides, too.” Scott looked a bit distant then.

“So, uh,” Stiles was desperate to change the subject, stop Scott’s face from looking that way, “What do werewolves eat?”

“Uh...pancakes?” Scott ventured a guess and Stiles burst out laughing.

“I had to feed you aspirin-laced hamburger meat last night and now you want pancakes.”

“I mean, I’m in my human form now so…”

“Okay. Pancakes coming up.”

They ate and chatted amiably, revealing that they’d actually been at the same high school and just never met because of how large it was.

“I wish we had met.” Scott said in a moment of intense sincerity that took Stiles by surprise. “You seem so cool.”

“Yeah. I think we could have been really good friends.” Stiles admitted, realizing he meant it.

“You know, I find you very attractive too.” Scott didn’t even blush. He was just pure and sincere, his dark eyes never leaving Stiles’ face.

“Oh.” Stiles, however, did blush—profusely. “Thank you.” He looked down at his sticky, syrupy plate. “You’re not too bad, yourself.” After a pause, he muttered mostly to himself. “And I sure did get an eyeful.”

Scott burst into a beautiful, tinkling laughter. “Breakfast  _ and  _ a show.”

“To be fair, I made breakfast.”

“True. And I'm very grateful. For the pancakes and coffee and the  _ aspirin-laced _ beef last night.”

“Don't mention it.” Stiles waved him off. “Did you want to brush your teeth? I think I have a few extra brushes lying around from dentist appointments.”

“That would be good. Probably good to cut down on the wolf breath.”

Stiles barked a laugh. “Is that even a real thing?”

“Dude, yeah. You don't even want to know.”

They brushed their teeth in silence and then went back to the bedroom, unsure where to start or where to go.

“I guess I should take you home, huh?” Stiles said, finally, the two of them sitting on the edge of the bed. Scott looked...sad?

“I don't really...want to go.” He admitted. “I've only known you for a little while but I’d very much like to kiss you if you'd let me.”

“I’d let you. Enthusiastically. Repeatedly.” Stiles said before he could really stop himself. Scott obviously thought it was cute and he leaned in, putting a hand on Stiles’ jaw and pressed their lips together. That first press was chaste and closed, more of a peck than a kiss. But then Scott swooped in again, his mouth open, and kissed against Stiles’ open lips. They moved together and their tongues got involved, heightening the intensity. Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little aroused at that moment. He wanted to do more but they had just met and he had a feeling they could be really...good together, if they took it slow, so he pulled back reluctantly.

“I think we should stop for now. I’d like to see you again, under less...bizarre circumstances.” Stiles admitted and Scott just bit his own lip and nodded along in agreement.

“I think you’re right.” Scott said. “You should give me your number and we can arrange something later.”

“Sounds good.”

Stiles drive Scott back to his apartment, happy in the knowledge that he knew where Scott lived now. He had written his number on a Post-It note before they left the house and Scott kissed Stiles chastely before hopping out of the Jeep and saying thanks one more time.

A few minutes down the road back home, Stiles got a text from a new number.

_ Hey, this is Scott _ .

Stiles felt warm at the sight. 


End file.
